


First Meetings

by sailorgreywolf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Summary: Scotland accompanies his mother to Francia to negotiate trade. He is expecting to prove his maturity, but ends up distracted by a handsome stranger.
Relationships: France/Scotland (Hetalia)
Kudos: 4





	First Meetings

Scotland was overjoyed to be at sea on the way to somewhere new and exciting. It was the first time that his mother had decided that he was old enough to leave their islands. Albion had told him that if he was a good boy this might even be a usual occurrence, since he was the heir and needed to learn the ways of trade and alliances.

He was determined to be good and make his mother proud. He knew that one day she would trust him with more responsibility and trust him to look after his brothers.

It was even more important than ever now that he had an infant brother who would need him. Arthur, Little Wessex, was so young and he would need protection and guidance from his eldest brother. 

At the age of fifteen Scotland knew that he needed to prove himself to her as a boy on the verge of adulthood. During the voyage, she explained the whole reason for this visit. She had trade ties with the Franks on the Northern coast of the continent, and made these trips to keep the bonds strong. It was easier to go herself than to trust a messenger to carry her words, and she wanted her son to see the process.

The only reservation that Scotland had was about the Danes. There was a possibility that their sails could emerge from the fog at any moment, as they often had in recent years.

The short passage from the Anglo-Saxon land to the kingdom of the Franks was not completely safe. He had asked his mother what they would do about the Danes, but she had given him a mysterious smile and said that she had found a way to deal with them. Scotland wouldn’t dare ask what she meant, but he took comfort in her certainty.

The first sight he had of the continent was the white sand of the beeches. Behind it there were impressive cliffs that seemed to be lush and green. How beautiful it was.

Scotland was certain from the first look that he would quite like this new place. Albion turned to him and asked, “What do you think of it?“ He responded in a hushed voice, like he was afraid he would scare away the beauty, “It’s lovely.”

Scotland followed dutifully as his mother walked into the courtyard, where a tall blonde woman was waiting for them. There was a scar on her cheek that spoke of battles fought long ago. It was easy to guess who had given her that scar, since the stories of Cesar in Gaul were legendary.

He knew that she had once been called Gaul, and was now known as Francia. It was not so strange that one would cast off the name that Rome had called them, as his own mother had by refusing to be known as Britannia.

The two greeted each other warmly while Scotland tried to decide if he was supposed to introduce himself or not. His mother and Francia were old friends and it explained their familiar greeting.

Scotland mulled over what he was supposed to do. In his father’s absence, he was the man of the family. But he also knew that he was there on his mother’s permission, and he would never speak over her.

To his relief, she solved the conundrum by saying, “This is my eldest, Alasdair.”

Scotland took this as a cue for him to bow, to show due respect. Francia gave him a smile and said, “You are such a strapping boy. I think you’re almost a man.”

He felt a glow of pride at that, and nodded enthusiastically. He so wanted to be the kind of man who his mother would be proud of. Albion responded, putting her hand on his shoulder, “I’m very proud of him. I hope he won’t have to be a man too soon.”

Francia said, “I have also brought my eldest. Francois, greet our guests.”

A young man forward, and Scotland realized that he had not noticed him behind Francia’s cloak. He had been too busy thinking about how to impress his mother’s friend and it had not even occurred to him to look.

He drew in a breath as he realized how beautiful the young man was. There was sunlight glinting off of his golden waves, and it made him look ethereal.

Scotland felt his own cheeks growing hot, and he hoped that it was only the warmth of the sun on his face.

The boy said, “I am very glad to meet you.” He smiled, and it felt like he was radiating warmth and light.

Scotland could feel his heart beating quickly, like he was nervous. But he could not think of a reason, since he had not felt this way before. His mother said, “Shall we go inside and talk?” Francia nodded.

Scotland could not focus at all; his mind was fixed on the blonde boy across the table from him. The more he looked, the more he was convinced that he had never seen a person so beautiful and so elegant.

He was trying not to stare, since he was sure that it was rude. He kept glancing at his mother, hoping that reminding himself of his duty would get his mind back on the reason he was present.

However, it was not working. He was watching the other boy’s slender hands as they fidgeted with the corner of a piece of parchment. It seemed like he was bored of the discussion. Even in his boredom he looked incredibly elegant.

Scotland glanced back up at his face, hoping to steal another look. To his surprise, he met the other’s blue eyes directly. It had not crossed his mind that France might be looking at him too. The eye contact made him feel like something fluttering in his stomach.

He quickly glanced away, and tried to calm his heart. It was such a strange and disconcerting feeling, but was not at all unpleasant. He had never felt this with anyone before, and he could not put a word to what the feeling was.

Francia noticed that her son was fidgeting, and threatening to tear the edge of whatever the document was. She said, “Francois, you should take Alasdair for a tour of the grounds. You’ll be less bored that way.”

Scotland looked up at his mother, trying to make it clear that he wasn’t bored. He said, “I can stay if you want me to.”  
Albion shook her head and said, “Go make a friend. I don’t mind.”

He glanced back at France, and couldn’t think of another good excuse to avoid time together He wanted to spend time with the boy, but he was also not certain what they would do once they were alone.

The very thought made him feel flustered and hot. His heart felt like it was pounding against his rib cage as he stood up to follow the blonde outside.

France pointed to one of the towers and said, “And that is the tallest one. It’s where my mother built the nursery.”

Scotland hardly heard a word he said, and he hardly looked up at the castle. He was too busy looking at the delicate curve of the other’s neck. He was not certain what was wrong with him, and he was sure that he had never felt that way before. He supposed he should pretend at interest, but it was hard to drag his attention away.

France stopped and said with a charming smile, “But you don’t really care, do you?”

Scotland was taken aback by the bluntness and the smile that it was delivered with. He scrambled to find an answer, but only managed to say, “Why do you say that.”

France turned completely to face him, his golden hair swinging around his face as he turned. He answered, “You’ve been looking at me since you got here.”

He stepped closer, and Scotland could see all the shades of blue in his eyes. They were like a mountain lake, clear and very expressive. He responded, “You’ve been looking too.”

He didn’t know what he expected, but the other responded without the slightest bit of guilt. He said, “You’re handsome, and I enjoy looking at you.”

He leaned in and Scotland thought for a fleeting moment that he was trying to make him blush. If he was, it was a success. But then France clarified his intention by saying, “I was thinking about what you would look like with a beard. You’d be so handsome.”

He paused and looked at Scotland with the most unfathomable expression, like he was measuring how far he would go. Then, he tilted his head to the side and said, “Can you grow one yet?”

Scotland was certain that he did not want to back away or tell France to stop looking at him. He felt strangely comfortable once his nerves started to fade. He chuckled and answered, “Only a little bit. My father says to give it a year.”

The blonde said proudly, “I can already grow some.”  
Scotland said, without thinking to hold his tongue, “Really? I don’t see anything.”

He squinted to see if there was light stubble on the boy’s cheek. Blonde hair could be so difficult to see in this kind of sunlight. He still wasn’t sure if there was anything there. France said, “Do you want to feel it?”

Without thinking about his response, Scotland said, “Yes, I do.”

He put his palm to the other’s cheek, and was amazed to feel that there was light stubble against his hand. The position that they were standing in didn’t occur to him until France leaned into his hand and nuzzled it slightly.

He knew that if he was not blushing at first, he was certainly blushing scarlet after that little gesture. His heart was pounding so hard that he could hear it in his ears.

He said, sounding slightly panicked, “What are you doing?”

France leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Then he said, “I like you.”

Scotland’s mind felt like it was free falling as he stared into the other’s deep blue eyes. He was thinking of all sorts of things that he was not supposed to know about. Things his mother told him he did not need to know about until he was old enough to have children. Things that people did at Beltane.

It was just a kiss, and it could still be chaste, but his mind was running several steps ahead. He followed his instinct and put his hands on the blonde’s waist.

He didn’t realize how rich the fabric that France was wearing was until he touched it. Then he felt distinctly that he was holding something beautiful and delicate.

He replied, trying to keep a distance that he had already conceded with his actions, “We’ve just met.”  
The blonde nodded and replied, “And yet I like you. I feel like we are meant to be.”

Scotland was not going to disagree with him, because he also felt certain that he was attracted to the young man. He said, “I like you too.”

France smiled in a way that looked almost shy. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Scotland’s very softly. It felt like he was hesitant, even scared.

Scotland felt like he had to reciprocate to tell him that it was acceptable. He deepened the kiss, and pulled France against him. It all felt clumsy, and he was not certain if he was doing anything right.

He had never kissed anyone before, and he felt so flushed and hot. He was not even certain that he was kissing well, but it felt good.

France broke the kiss and laid his head against Scotland’s shoulder. He couldn’t see it, but Scotland had a feeling that the blonde was smiling.

France hugged him and said, “You smell like a rainstorm. It’s nice.” He nuzzled into the Scot’s neck, and said, “I’ve never done that before with anyone.”

Scotland asked, genuinely shocked because the other seemed to be so confident in himself. He replied, “Am I really your first?”  
France said, his voice slightly muffled as he spoke into his shoulder, “I told you. You feel right to me, like we’re meant to be.”

Scotland found the sentiment incredibly touching and he said, “You’re so sweet. I want to get to know you better.”

France took took one of Scotland’s hands in his own and entwined their fingers. It felt like their hands fit together well.

France asked, “How long are you staying here? I can come to your room.”  
Scotland pet his blonde hair and said, “A week at least.”

He planted one more soft kiss on the other’s forehead. He had a feeling that his mother would be very surprised when she found out about this.


End file.
